


Put Me Where You Want Me

by garbage_dono



Series: The Thousand Roads and Seven Seas [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub Play, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-War, Spanking, Strength Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23501410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbage_dono/pseuds/garbage_dono
Summary: “We both agree I’m hardly fragile.”“Yeah.”“And we also both agree that you’re quite strong.”Caspar grinned. “Yeah.”“So there’s no need to be so gentle with me.”Linhardt asks Caspar to use his strength in new ways. Caspar is happy to oblige.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Series: The Thousand Roads and Seven Seas [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652239
Comments: 10
Kudos: 268





	Put Me Where You Want Me

**Author's Note:**

> Once again I blame the discord. You know who you are.

Sex with Caspar was nothing short of mind-blowing.

Oh, he had been inexperienced at first. A little shy and clumsy at times when they had first fallen into bed together, tangled together trading frantic gasping kisses. But that had receded quickly. So quickly that it had almost given Linhardt whiplash. Even when Caspar faltered or stumbled or didn’t quite know what to do with his hands – or couldn’t stop _talking_ while Linhardt sucked him off – he was so earnest and stubborn and _determined_ to make Linhardt feel good that it barely mattered.

What he lacked in experience (and tact at times) he made up for with energy in spades. And stamina. Oh goddess, his _stamina…_ It made Linhardt a little lightheaded just thinking of how many rounds that man could go before he was well and truly spent.

And despite all that energy and strength, Caspar was _gentle._ That was what Linhardt thought he loved best. When Linhardt clung to him while Caspar worked him to orgasm, he could _feel_ those muscles rippling just under his skin, flexing with every thrust and groan and pleasure-flooded gasp. When Caspar held his waist, it felt like a vice. The slightest bit of pressure took Linhardt’s breath away just _imagining_ what he could do to him if he well and truly let himself go.

“Harder,” he gasped, and Caspar moaned against the crook of Linhardt’s neck, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor.

Yes, _yes,_ this was what he’d been craving – Caspar’s hips grinding against his, pressing him down into the mattress with every thrust, fingers digging into Linhardt’s flesh below his ribs. Linhardt could live on that feeling. He could _feast_ on it. And he craved more.

“ _Harder,_ ” he insisted again, legs hooking themselves around Caspar’s ass, calves pressing against the rounded, flexing muscle. The headboard creaked as Caspar held it with an iron grip. “Oh, _goddess,_ yes – harder!”

He felt like he was floating in a haze of pleasure, lost in the feeling of Caspar holding him, gripping him tight, pounding into him-

For a moment – just a brief blink of a moment – he felt a flash of teeth brushing against his throat, and Linhardt came, whining and squirming underneath him with Caspar following behind just a few moments later.

By the time Caspar rolled to the side, panting and flushed, Linhardt was already melting into the mattress. His hair was no doubt a mess, his brow covered with a sheen of quickly cooling sweat, and he let his hands rest on the pillow on either side of his head as he caught his breath. He could almost picture it, Caspar holding his wrists there, pressing them down against the sheets and pinning him…it made his fingers curl against his palms.

Caspar’s face filled his field of vision when Linhardt finally pried his eyes open again. “You okay?”

“Mm.”

“That wasn’t…ya know…too much, right?” His hand scratched against the back of his neck, the flush in his face deepening again. “I know you said _harder,_ but I-“

Linhardt flattened his palm against Caspar’s broad chest. “It was good.”

“Yeah?” Caspar asked with a shy and playful little smile.

“Mm-hm.” Linhardt managed one of his own. “I knew you had it in you.”

“Had what in me?”

“Oh come now, Caspar,” Linhardt said, fingers curling against his jaw and urging him to lean forward so that he could steal a kiss. “How many times have we done this now?”

“Uh…I haven’t exactly been keeping count.”

“Exactly. You should know by now you don’t need to worry about _breaking_ me.”

Caspar sputtered. Adorable. Linhardt let his hand wander down over his pecs, feeling them flex as Caspar leaned over him. “I’m not worried about breaking you!” he insisted. “I just…ya know…I don’t want to do too much because you’re…”

“What? A fragile, timid little mage?”

“ _No!_ ” Caspar snorted. “C’mon, you’re not _timid._ And I don’t think you’re fragile.”

Linhardt hummed. “No,” he sighed. “I’m not…” His fingers traced the outline of Caspar’s nipple, making him shiver. “Physically, though, you far out-class me. I hardly mind. I happen to like those rippling muscles of yours.”

Caspar matched Linhardt’s smirk with one of his own. “Rippling, huh?”

“Quite.” He let himself fall back against the pillows with a happy, satisfied exhale, fingers trailing down along Caspar’s arm and wherever else they pleased without direction. “I do wish you would use them more to your advantage in bed.”

“You…want me to use my muscles more?”

“Why did you think I wanted you to go harder?”

Caspar shrugged. “I…figured you were close?”

“Well, yes. But it’s more than just that.” When Caspar lay back down beside him again, propped up on one elbow to let his fingers smooth through Linhardt’s hair (goddess preserve him, that was nice), he met his eye. “We both agree I’m hardly fragile.”

“Yeah.”

“And we also both agree that you’re quite strong.”

Caspar grinned. “Yeah.”

“So there’s no need to be so _gentle_ with me.” Caspar’s hands paused at his temple, and Linhardt reached up to guide those fingers of his back to his scalp in a silent request. Caspar quickly acquiesced, tucking a strand of hair behind Linhardt’s ear. “I don’t _dislike_ you being gentle. I quite like the tenderness of it all…” He let out a yawn. “Particularly when I’m enjoying my afterglow. But in the heat of the moment…honestly, Caspar, sometimes…”

He opened his eyes, meeting Caspar’s gaze head-on with the last bit of energy he had before sleepiness spirited him away, and he said, “Honestly, just once, I’d like nothing more than for you to really take charge.”

He swore he saw Caspar _gulp._ “Take…charge?”

“You know, rough me up a bit. Tell me where you want me and _put_ me there. Pin me down on the bed and just _take_ me.”

Now he _knew_ he saw his throat bob. “Oh. And you’d…you’d like that? You wouldn’t think it was too…”

“Too what?”

“I don’t know…what if it’s too much?”

“Well you hardly need to _force_ it. And I certainly wouldn’t force you to…” Another yawn. “…do anything…” He curled against Caspar’s firm chest, letting his eyes flutter closed. “It can wait for another day regardless. For the moment I’m rather _thoroughly_ spent.” He found Caspar’s hand, entwining their fingers and running his thumb along the familiar bumps and scars over his knuckles. “Thanks to you.”

All he got in response was a warm, airy chuckle before he was drifting off to sleep.

* * *

When he woke up the next morning, his thighs were pleasantly sore and the bed was empty. He groaned as he hazarded a peek out from under the blankets, spotting a note sitting on the bedside table. He forewent fumbling around for his glasses and squinted down his nose at it to try and make out Caspar’s messy, scrawled handwriting:

_Went to the market for breakfast. Will bring you back those blackberries you like!_

_-Caspar_

With a heart underneath it for good measure. Goddess, this man was going to be the death of him, and Linhardt adored every single moment of it.

He tucked the note under his pillow and went back to sleep.

It only felt like he’d dozed for another few minutes before the bed dipped and the scent of fresh bread and sweet berries hit his nostrils. “Brought you some breakfast,” Caspar whispered. “You awake?”

“No,” Linhardt answered.

“Perfect.” He could _hear_ the grin on his face. “C’mon, I know you don’t like eating in bed.”

His stomach answered for him, growling indignantly and forcing a sigh out of him as Caspar chuckled.

“Linhaaaardt,” Caspar crooned. “You better get up before I eat all these ripe, delicious blackberries all by myself.”

“You wouldn’t _dare,_ ” Linhardt growled, but when he looked again, Caspar was already popping one in his mouth. “ _Caspar-_ “

“Get your lazy butt out of bed and you can have as much as you want.”

“Will you let me get dressed at the very least, or are you going to insist I come and eat in the nude?”

A splash of pink found its way onto Caspar’s cheeks. “I mean…I wouldn’t complain.”

“The innkeeper might.”

“It’s not like you have to go wandering the halls as naked as the day you were born.” He leaned in closer with a mischievous little smirk. “Besides, I kinda like knowing I’m the only one who gets to see your bare ass nowadays.”

Oh, _that_ made something squeeze in Linhardt’s chest, warming him from the inside out despite the autumn chill that snuck under the blanket as he sat up. “Is that so?”

Caspar dropped a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Ten minutes…get dressed and come eat, m’kay?”

“I do love it when you order me around like that, big boy.”

Linhardt counted himself lucky that Caspar didn’t drop the berries all over the floor at that, because he certainly seemed to come dangerously close.

* * *

His plans to sleep in may have been foiled, but Linhardt couldn’t complain much about that. The longer they stayed in this town, the more they seemed to find to do. And they had been here quite a while by now – so long that the innkeeper had given up charging them gold in favor of accepting their help around town instead. At first it had seemed that it would only be Caspar truly earning their keep – hunting for pelts and meat, or driving off bandits when they came too close to the town limits for comfort – but Linhardt had fallen into a routine of offering up his healing expertise in the afternoons.

It was easy work, all things considered. Sprained ankles and scraped knees that hardly needed more than a moment’s attention. After all the grisly war wounds he’d tended in years past, he could practically do it in his sleep.

“That Caspar fellow is your traveling companion, isn’t he?” a quiet elderly lady mused as Linhardt tended to her arthritic wrist. He glanced up and followed her line of sight where it settled outside the window, spotting Caspar out in the town square lifting a little boy onto his shoulders with a wide grin.

Linhardt smiled and let out a sigh. “That’s one word for it, I suppose.”

“He isn’t your husband yet, hm?”

“Not officially.” Magic fading from his fingertips, he reached into his satchel for a jar of warming salve he’d whipped up a few nights before. “Though honestly, it wouldn’t change much of anything.”

“He’s such a _sweet_ young man,” she said.

As Linhardt worked the salve into her skin with gentle fingers, he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “He is very much that.”

“And so _strong_ too.”

Linhardt glanced out the window again just in time to watch Caspar haul a sack full of potatoes onto his shoulders like it was nothing. The jar of salve went rolling onto the floor, and he bit back a curse.

The woman chuckled. “Distracted, are we?”

“Not at all.”

That was a lie and she knew it just as well as he did. At the very least he saved himself the embarrassment of letting slip that he somehow found himself jealous of a sack of potatoes.

* * *

The day stretched on and ended with a passing rain shower that made Linhardt groan as he finally made his way down the hall and up the stairs toward their room. It was empty when he entered – not the most surprising thing in the world. He sighed and dropped his satchel by the door, getting to work stripping off his damp outer robes.

He had just sat down in the chair by the window try and get a brush through his hair when he heard a shuffle of feet outside the door. No doubt Caspar being driven inside by the rain. But he didn’t come in right away. He lingered just outside for a moment or two, waiting. For what, Linhardt wasn’t sure.

The door opened, and Caspar entered, one hand shutting it behind him as the other ran through his short-cropped hair.

He took a breath, and then said, “Linhardt,” in a voice that made Linhardt stop brushing and blink up at him. Low, breathy, almost a growl, with just the slightest hint of a waver that betrayed a hint of nervousness bubbling under the surface.

“Yes?” Linhardt said after a beat.

In that same tone, almost enough to make Linhardt drop the brush right then and there, Caspar told him, “Get on the bed.”

Oh, _that_ made him drop the brush. His chest felt like it was full of bees. “What?”

Two, three, four wide, quick strides and Caspar was in front of him, hands planted on the arms of the chair as he leaned in close. So very, _very_ close. “I said…” _Closer,_ until Linhardt could feel his breath against the shell of his ear. “ _Get on the bed._ ” 

Forget breathing, Linhardt almost forgot how to _think_ when those words left his mouth. Especially sounding like _that._

He met Caspar’s eye, heart pounding, arousal pulsing through every inch of his body. Letting out a shaky little breath, he said, “What if I want you to make me?”

That was all he needed to say before strong arms hooked underneath his legs, sending him pitching forward over Caspar’s shoulder with a breathless cry, and the next thing he knew he was swept across the room and landed square on his back in the middle of the bed with an “ _Oof!_ ” He expected Caspar to crawl over him, to pepper kisses along his chest and neck like he usually did – perhaps with a bit more vigor – but Caspar just stood at the foot of the bed.

His hands rested on his belt, unbuckling it. He dropped it at his feet. Then those fingers got to work on his collar. Undoing one button at a time, tugging at the fabric until his shirt was hanging open on his shoulders, wisps of chest hair on full display. “Lie back,” he growled, face illuminated only by the candlelight. “Get good and comfortable for me.”

“Mm,” Linhardt hummed. “And then?”

Caspar blinked. “Huh?”

“After I’m comfortable…what’s next?” He was panting, smiling, head buzzing like he’d downed half a bottle of wine.

“Uh-“ Caspar’s brow knit as he searched for an answer. Seemed he hadn’t quite gotten that far. His expression was so endearing that Linhardt almost laughed – so intently focused on finding the right words that he could practically smell coal burning between his ears. But it lasted only a moment, before Caspar finally settled on, “Get out of those clothes for me.”

“All of them?” Linhardt prompted, already slipping his shirt over his head and working on shimmying out of his pants.

“Yeah,” Caspar said. That grin was back again, his confidence growing – along with something _else,_ judging from the shadow cast between his legs by the candlelight. “Get good and naked for me.”

When Linhardt’s fingers hooked under the waistband of his underwear, Caspar spoke up again: “Wait a second.” And then a beat later, Caspar let out a breath and added, “ _Slowly._ ”

Slowly…yes, Linhardt could do that. He slide them down his thighs, forcing himself to take his time, plucking them off his ankle and dropping them over the edge of the bed. Caspar’s gaze on him was _hot,_ burning into his skin and making his entire body flush.

“Yeah,” Caspar breathed. “That’s good.”

“Where do you want me?” Linhardt groaned, chest heaving.

“You’re already exactly where I want you.”

“Then _how_ do you want me?”

Caspar’s shirt dropped at his feet, the bed dipping as he rested on his knees, straddling Linhardt’s calves. He hooked his arm around the back of one knee, pressed his legs apart until he could settle easily between them, and he pressed his mouth to the inside of his thigh. Linhardt tilted his head back, eyes sliding closed, and Caspar pinched him.

_Pinched_ him.

He yelped, out of surprise more than pain, and Caspar met his eye again and commanded, “Don’t take your eyes off me.”

Oh, he was more than happy to oblige.

He watched as Caspar nuzzled along his inner thigh, trailing kisses and love bites along his hip, lips dragging up the length of his stomach and chest until Caspar was firmly planted above him with his arms bracketing Linhardt’s shoulders.

Caspar swallowed and said, “Unbutton my pants.”

With shaking hands, Linhardt did, and Caspar easily pushed them down his legs, kicking them off. Goddess preserve him, he felt like his entire body was on _fire_ when Caspar looked down at him from above with that wicked glint in his eye. “Good,” he growled – _growled._ “That’s good.”

The waver in his voice was getting less noticeable by the minute, his confidence growing. Linhardt glanced down and smirked when he noticed something _else_ growing too. “What do you plan on doing with that, hm?” he teased, rolling his hips upward, and Caspar bit his lip.

Instead of answering, he pressed his hands against Linhardt’s wrists, pinning them down against the pillows. Linhardt _moaned –_ far louder than he should have, considering the old, battered walls separating them from the rest of the inn – and Caspar chuckled, deep in his chest. “You like that, huh?”

“Yes…”

“You said you wanted me to _use my strength_ more.” His hands squeezed around Linhardt’s wrists, making Linhardt writhe underneath him. And _goddess,_ he couldn’t get up even if he tried. “This what you had in mind?”

“ _Goddess,_ yes.”

Caspar leaned down, pressing his lips against the shell of Linhardt’s ear, and Linhardt could _feel_ him smiling. “Just…tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, little more than a whisper. Discrete. Like he was hiding the reassurance from some invisible audience before slipping back into the cocky, powerful persona he’d concocted when he’d stepped through the door.

Linhardt hardly needed it – there wasn’t a single bit of him that doubted Caspar would stop the moment he sensed a hint of discomfort. But _discomfort_ was hardly what Linhardt would use to describe what he was feeling. No, quite the opposite. He curled his fingers, pads of them brushing against the tendons straining against the skin of Caspar’s _beautiful_ hands.

He met Caspar’s eye, and that was all the answer he needed to give.

“M’gonna fuck you,” Caspar muttered, words shaking with something _other_ than hesitation now. He sounded like a bowstring pulled taught, and as he spoke he slicked up his fingers with oil and pressed one down between Linhardt’s legs. “Spread these for me.”

Linhardt did, eagerly, dragging his newly freed hand through that wild hair of his as Caspar pressed the finger inside, knuckle deep. It was an easy stretch, but it left Linhardt feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him. “Goddess I want more,” he breathed, barely even realizing he’d spoken.

“I’ll give you more,” Caspar said, and then after a moment’s thought, he added, “If you’re good.”

“Oh?”

“If you earn it.”

“And how do I do that?”

Caspar pressed in a second finger, and Linhardt keened. “Don’t touch yourself,” he insisted, and he glanced up to meet Linhardt’s eyes with his gleaming blue ones. “Or me…hands on the sheets. Above your head.” To prove his point, he reached up with his free hand, gathered both of Linhardt’s wrists in his broad palm, and pressed them down against the pillow. Linhardt felt his knuckles brush against the headboard and he shivered. “Keep ‘em there, even when I move my hand, understand?”

“Mm…and if I don’t?”

Caspar thought it over – Linhardt could see all the possible answers running through his eyes one after another.

Then Caspar grabbed him, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs, and flipped him over onto his stomach. Gripped his ass and _tugged_ until it was in the air, and-

_Smack._

The silence that followed was deafening, ringing in Linhardt’s ears.

Goddess, Caspar had just _spanked_ him – open palm against his upper thigh, rattling his bones with the sound more than anything else. Linhardt’s fingers curled against the pillows.

“Uh…” Caspar cleared his throat. “Is…is that-“

“ _Do that again._ ”

Caspar folded himself over Linhardt’s body, nuzzling his jaw. “Is that what you want?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Then keep your hands-“ He pressed them down again, just to make a point. “-where I want them.”

Linhardt let out a gasp as Caspar’s hand came down against his thigh once again, followed quickly by his mouth, kissing all along the soft skin like an afterthought. A promise that his reward was sure to come. As if the feeling of Caspar smacking his ass like that wasn’t its own reward.

His fingers were back again, slick and eager, filling him and stretching him, making Linhardt’s head swim. A moan got lost in the pillows, fabric bunching under his nails. “More…”

“More what?”

“More…of you…”

“Tell me what you want.”

Goddess above, how did Caspar make such innocuous words so _filthy?_ Had this side of him been hiding somewhere inside him for as long as Linhardt had known him? Well, who was he to leave that question unanswered?

“Your cock,” he insisted, pressing his hips back. “I want your cock.”

He could _hear_ Caspar shudder. Seemed he still had some power after all. But Caspar’s hand ran up the length of his spine, reducing him to little more than jelly with every vertebra he passed. “Easy,” he purred. “I’ll give it to you…don’t worry, Lin…I’ll give it to you.” His thumb tapped against Linhardt’s hip bone. “If you think you can take it.”

“When have I ever _not_ been able to do that?” Linhardt countered, glancing back at him with one eyebrow arched.

Well, Caspar had never been one to let a challenge go un-met. And it seemed that this was no exception – because his fingers curled against Linhardt’s thighs, head of his cock pressing against him, and the next thing Linhardt knew, Caspar was-

“ _Fuck-_ “ The word punched its way out of him as Caspar pushed inside, bottoming out so _deep_ that he could barely draw in another breath. He gripped the pillow under his hands, so hard that he thought he hit down. “Ca…Caspar…”

His hips drew back and snapped forward, and _void,_ Linhardt saw stars. “Didn’t you say-“ Caspar bit back a moan. “Didn’t you say you could take it?”

“I can…”

“Yeah…yeah, of course you can…” Another snap of his hips, Caspar’s moan tripped over his teeth and broke like a wave. The bed squeaked underneath them. “So good, Lin…”

A single word fell from Linhardt’s lips, breathless and desperate: “ _H-harder!_ ”

As if Caspar needed coaxing. His chest pressed against Linhardt’s back, teeth grazing the nape of Linhardt’s neck as he anchored his hand against the headboard. “So good,” he said again, panting in Linhardt’s ear. “Fuck…Lin, you’re so damn…so damn good…”

“Please…”

“You want to come?”

“Yes, yes, _goddess,_ yes-“

“Tell me what you want,” Caspar insisted, his free hand skimming down Linhardt’s stomach.

“I want to come,” Linhardt gasped.

“Louder.”

“I want to come!”

“ _Louder._ ”

“Caspar, goddess _dammit,_ I want to-“

Caspar’s hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it hard, thumb pressing against the head, and Linhardt threw his head back and keened and _came._ Harder than he ever had in his life. So hard that by the time he opened his eyes again, his back was on the sheets and Caspar’s face was filling his vision.

He was flushed and panting and sated, pupils blown wide. “Lin,” he breathed, his hand brushing against Linhardt’s temple. He smiled. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” Linhardt muttered. He could feel Caspar’s release dribbling down his thigh, his fingers brushing sweaty hair from his face. “Caspar…that…”

“Are you okay?”

Linhardt closed his eyes and hummed, a tired smile tugging at his lips. “I’m perfect,” he wanted to say, but all that came out was a garbled mess of nothing at all.

Caspar was gone for only a moment, returning in what felt like the blink of an eye and pressing a damp cloth to his head. Then a cup to his lips. “You should probably drink somethin’,” he said. “That uh…seemed to take a lot out of you.”

“Mm…and whose fault is that?”

Clumsy as his fingers were, Linhardt still reached out to cup Caspar’s face in his palm as water trickled down his throat. Caspar leaned into it, eyes fluttering closed.

With the same careful, gentle hands that Linhardt had grown so used to over the years, Caspar cleaned him up and wrapped him in a sinfully soft blanket, tucking himself up against his spine until the sound of his breathing mixed with the rain outside and lulled Linhardt into the deepest sleep of his life. But not before…

“Hey Lin.”

“Mhm…”

“I think I might’ve pulled a muscle.”

Linhardt snorted, reaching back to pat the side of his face. “I’ll heal it first thing in the morning.”


End file.
